Organised by the East India Company, then headed by Sir Thomas Smythe (c.1588-1625), the mission consisted
of three ships – lead by The Clove–
setting out in the spring of 1611. The East India Company itself had only been
established around a decade before. At the time trade links had already been
established as far away as ‘the spice islands’ of modern day Indonesia, but
this was by far the furthest trip from England yet attempted. The Clove left its sister ships at Java
and continued on alone to Japan, where it arrived in 1613. The Company was hoping
to set up trade links by which it could sell England’s perhaps most prodigious
commodity – wool. But there were far more interesting things on board besides
wool. As the mission was the first of its kind they also took expensive gifts
as well as letters of friendship from King James I (1566-1625) to the Japanese
Shogun, Tokugawa Hidetada (1579-1632), and his retired father, Tokugawa Ieyasu
(1543-1616). These gifts included such innovative scientific instruments as a
telescope and a ‘burning glass’ – remarkably the telescope itself had only been
invented in 1608, and this is said almost certainly to have been the first
telescope sent from Europe to Asia.

The mission, lead by Captain John
Saris (c.1580-1643), landed in the southern islands of Japan near Kyushu and
was allowed to proceed overland to meet with the Shogunate where they exchanged
gifts and letters. It seems the Japanese were impressed and not a little
curious about the foreign newcomers who seemed to be quite different to those
whom they’d encountered before. The discussions were mediated by ‘Samurai
William’ which no doubt helped their cause. ‘Samurai William,’ as he was later
styled in the West, or ‘Anjin Miura’ (三浦按針 The Pilot of Miura), as he is
remembered in Japan, was a British Sailor named William Adams (1564-1620), who
had sailed with a Dutch vessel that eventually sank off the coast of Japan. Subsequently,
rather than returning home when the opportunity arose, he chose to settle in
Japan. En route to Edo, the Japanese capital (now present day Tokyo), the party
from The Clove passed through
Kamakura, where (as with almost all first time visitors to Kamakura even today)
they visited the famous Daibutsu (大仏) – an enormous bronze statue of the Buddha, sitting in
mediation. I won’t say too much here about the Daibutsu as, having visited it several times myself, I intend to
write an Eccentric Parabola post
about the statue at some point in the near future – but, as with most visitors
today, the English party from The Clove
were shown inside the hollow statue. In their accounts of the expedition the
sailors tell of how they ‘scratched their names’ inside the hollow interior –
this may seem like an act of desecration to us today, however, at the time this
was possibly encouraged as a pious and reverent act duly undertaken at a place
of sacred pilgrimage. As yet modern researchers have not found any evidence of
the signatures scratched into the bronze by the English sailors from The Clove. It’s possible that they may
eventually be found, but also quite likely that their signatures have been
erased over the centuries by the palimpsest of subsequent graffiti.

Having met with the Shogunate, and
passed on the letters from King James I, the Tokugawa’s reciprocated with
wonderful gifts of their own – most notably two suits of armour and ten pairs
of painted folding screens (屏風, Byōbu), but most importantly they
responded with letters of friendship and granted permission for the English
Company to reside and trade in Japan. These items were all duly returned to
London in 1614, the mission having left a member of their party, Richard Cocks
(1566-1624), in charge of a small trading post established at the southern port
of Hirado. Despite the warm wishes of the Tokugawa’s letters – which famously
stated that “though separated by ten
thousand leagues of clouds and waves, our territories are as it were close to
each other” – the English trading post was warily placed at a far distance
from the centres of power in Japan at the southern end of Kyushu, much to
Richard Cocks’ chagrin as the trading post ultimately could not be sustained.
Despite the vast cultural differences many close parallels were found between
the two nations – much was made of the fact that each country was an island
nation ruled by a single, divinely appointed monarch, and significant parallels
were perceived between similar events of divine favour bestowed upon
each nation by the miraculous intervention of the elements which helped decide
battles against Mongol and Spanish would-be invaders in the form of the
‘Kamikaze’ (神風,
divine wind) in 1274 and 1281, and the gale which scattered the Spanish Armada
in 1588. The East India Company sought to set up a different (and they hoped
more logical and less arduous) route via the fabled ‘Northeast Passage’ over
the top of Russia, setting up the necessary diplomatic agreements with the
Russian Tsar, but ultimately – aside from the unrealistic navigational difficulties
which opposed using such a route – it simply became easier to procure Japanese
commodities in the ports of Holland and the East Indies where Dutch traders
were already successfully established in sourcing such goods.

The
Clove returned to London in 1614, where it was moored at Blackwall and its
unusual cargo unloaded. The gifts from the Shogun were duly passed to the King,
but the rest of the cargo was put up for auction – this apparently being the
first recorded auction exclusively consisting of East Asian art to be held in
London. Timon Screech told us how the ten original folding screens sent by the
Tokugawas to James I were not all deemed appropriate or worthy gifts for his
Majesty (perhaps because they’d been damaged in the course of the return voyage
or their subject matter or artistic qualities were perhaps not thought fit) and
so other screens collected in Japan made up the ten which were actually given
to the King. Those which were deemed unsuitable, along with a number of other
artworks, were then put up for auction amongst the East India Company
employees. Three were purchased by Sir Thomas Smythe himself, and one, I noted,
was bought by a namesake of mine – Abraham Chamberlain (presumably a
‘well-to-do’ merchant of the East India Company). The prices these artworks
fetched were not inconsiderable and ranked alongside the prices then commanded
by noted Western artists such as Caravaggio, indicating the quality and the esteem
which such Japanese works of art were first received. Apparently the Captain,
John Saris, had reserved for himself a set of erotic artworks (春画, Shunga) which caused quite a stir, prompting Smythe to compel
Saris to either surrender the artworks or forfeit his position in the company.
Saris chose to give the illicit artworks (presumably paintings) to Smythe who
immediately threw the lot of them on the fire. Presumably some of the other
artworks brought back by The Clove survive
in various different collections – certainly the suits of armour given to King
James remain in the royal collection housed at the Tower of London, and the original ‘vermillion seal’ letter
(朱印状, Shuinjō)
from Tokugawa Ieyasu granting the Company the rights to reside and trade in
Japan, which at one time was thought lost, resurfaced in the collections of the
Bodleian Library.

The talk was an intriguing one and
certainly captivated the audience. Several very good questions were asked at
the end – in which we discovered that the fate of the telescope is sadly
unknown, it has been sought but is thought to have been lost in a palace fire
in Japan. Timon Screech, an Art Historian who teaches at SOAS, certainly
brought this little known but significant episode in the history of British and
Japanese relations vividly to life (and I believe this will be the subject of a
forthcoming book too). It must have been a mutually intriguing encounter
between the two cultures, and one which happily seems to have succeeded in its
peaceful aim – even if the links established eventually failed to hold due
mainly to the extreme distance involved. Various events are being held to
commemorate the several further significant dates of the 400th
anniversary of the mission over the coming year both in the UK and in Japan.
For more information see the Japan 400 website.